


Grissom's Gun

by ufp13



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2018-02-18 20:20:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2361044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had always enjoyed the sight of a gun in her hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grissom's Gun

**Author's Note:**

> Not my sandbox, just playing in it.
> 
> Thank you for the beta, C. *HUGS*

He had to hand in his gun when he left CSI. An object he had a love-hate relationship with. He hadn’t liked to carry it, had hardly ever remembered to take it with him. However, it would also be a lie to say he was a bad shooter because of that; quite the contrary. Yet that didn’t mean he liked to point the barrel at a living being – human or otherwise. He preferred the firing range – for the memories it held, for the safety of hurting no one.

The first memories connected to this location were older than he cared to admit.

Shortly after she had walked into CSI and chewed one of his chocolate-covered grasshoppers without blinking, he had met the sassy rookie at the firing range – and discovered a fetish he hadn’t known he had. Although the woman had caught his interest ever since he first met her for she didn’t show any hesitance in interacting with him, her smart mouth keeping him on his toes, he hadn’t really looked at her. He had remedied that fact that evening, admiring her skills with the gun, discovering why some guys got all hot and bothered over “babes with guns”. Eventually, though, she had noticed his presence. 

Until today, he didn’t know if she had known the moment he had entered and humoured him or really had only caught sight of him when she put the gun down. Judging by her staying to observe him shooting, he guessed it was the former, though. After having watched him for a while, she had left, waving goodbye.

Only the next day when they were out on a case, she had commented on his shooting skills – or the lack thereof – offering to give him hints. The rest, as they say, was history. With time, he did better, didn’t need her to correct his stance, but he always enjoyed the sight of a gun in her hand, preferred her holding it over doing it himself which was why he kept happily forgetting to carry.

Handing his gun over to the sheriff, he knew he wouldn’t miss it. Memories lived in the mind, not in objects, after all. 

= End =


End file.
